“I have no memory of my father,” he finally said.
“Sy, you don’t have…”
Sy’s eyes snapped up, “I want to, Grainger. I need to.”
“Okay.”
Sy’s fingers resumed, “The only thing I know about my father is that he wasn’t a nice man and that he’s dead now. My mother never said it outright but I got the impression that he beat her and she put up with it….until she had me. When I was born, something in her changed. Because now she wasn’t just afraid that he’d hurt her. She was afraid that he’d hurt me too. I, I, I think he did this to me, but she would never admit that, she couldn’t. All she would tell me is that when he put her in the hospital with a concussion and a broken arm, the next day when she was released and went home was when she kicked him out and filed a restraining order against him. But my aunt told me a bit more. She said he’d left me alone in my crib all night while he and his buddies played poker. I was three months old.”
“Jesus,” Grainger whispered and then he reached out to clasp Sy’s hand.
A tear rolled down Sy’s cheek. “When my mom walked in that next day, the house was a mess, guys were passed out on the couch and the floor and my dad was nowhere to be found. She found me naked in my crib because my diaper had gotten so soaked that it disintegrated. She called the police while she bathed me as best as she could with the cast on her arm. When they got there, she told them everything. My dad showed up from god knows where when they were taking her statement. They arrested him. He started begging her, telling her he’d change. She held out my tiny body, unwrapped the towel I was in and asked him how I’d gotten the burns. My dad didn’t smoke but others at the poker game had cigars. She wanted to know who’d hurt her baby. He refused to tell her. Wouldn’t say if it was him or someone else. The cops took him away. He spent two years in jail and she filed a restraining order. She heard through friends that he died from stomach cancer when I was five.”
“Sy….”
“No! I’m not telling you this because I want your sympathy or your pity, babe. I’m telling you because I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. I have no idea how a relationship works. I didn’t grow up with an example of one and I’ve never been in one. I’m not a virgin. I’ve had hookups and friends with benefits. But a relationship? No fucking clue.”
Grainger smiled, he fucking smiled.
“What?” Sy said.
“Neither do I.”
“What?”
“I told you, I’ve never been in a relationship either.”
“You meant that?”
Grainger nodded, “I did.”
Sy’s mouth dropped open, “But, but, you’re hot….and, and, and normal.”
Grainger barked out a laugh, “But I grew up in a house with no emotion, Sy. My parents didn’t believe in showing anything - no anger, no fear, no happiness - nothing. We were like a portrait family but in real life. When I left that shit and started dating, I had no idea how to show the guys I was with that I wanted to be with them, that I liked them. After two or three failed attempts, I stopped trying and stuck to hookups.”
“But you want to try with me?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
Grainger sighed and slid his thumb back and forth over Sy’s hand, “Do we always have to have answers, Sy? Some people are gay, some are straight, some are gender fluid, some want to be alone, some want to be with more than one person and some know without a doubt who they belong with. Sometimes things just are the way they are and we don’t get answers as to why, babe. I never thought that a relationship was in the cards for me and I never questioned why, I just accepted that was how I was wired. But then I met you and I realized that a relationship hadn’t been in the cards for me because I hadn’t met you yet. I don’t care why that happened. I don’t need answers.
I just need you.”
Twenty-Eight
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vaughn
The water cascaded over Vaughn’s shoulders as he stared at the man on his knees below him.
Cay’s tongue snaked out from between his lips and traced a line from the base of Vaughn’s dick to the tip.
Then he did it again.
And again.
Vaughn snorted a laugh, “That feels good and all but, what the fuck are you doing?”
Caysun smiled as he did it again, “I told you, these veins are like braille for my tongue. I’m finding my way.”
Vaughn’s fingers tightened in Cay’s hair, “Here, let me help you,” he said as he guided his dick between those wet lips and into Cay’s mouth until he hit the back of his throat.
His eyes squeezed shut as his head thumped back against the wall, “God, your mouth.”
Caysun hummed his approval and the sound went straight to Vaughn’s balls.
Vaughn gripped Cay’s hair harder as he tunneled his dick in and out of that mouth.
When he saw Cay’s hand snake down and wrap around his own dick he grunted out, “Don’t. Want to taste you too.”
Caysun moaned – whether in agreement or protest Vaughn neither knew, nor really cared at the moment.
“Close,” he said through his clenched jaw.
His hips lost their rhythm after a few more thrusts and then he was gone.
“Ungh, fuck, fuck! He cried out as his dick shot its load down Cay’s throat, his orgasm thrumming through his entire body as his dick twitched and pulsed in Cay’s mouth.
His dick hadn’t even gotten to the sensitive part when Cay was pulling his mouth off and shoving to his feet.
“Knees,” he commanded.
Since Vaughn’s knees didn’t even want to hold him up at the moment, dropping to them wasn’t a problem.
Cay’s fingers were in his hair and he was thrusting before Vaughn had even realized that he’d opened his mouth.
He only got to enjoy the slide of Cay’s long dick in his mouth for a few short seconds before the man unleashed his own orgasm and spewed down Vaughn’s throat.
Cay continued gliding in between Vaughn’s lips until his dick became sensitive and he reluctantly slid it out.
He helped Vaughn to his feet and then shared a few lazy kisses with him before finishing up their shower just before the hot water ran out.
Twenty minutes later, they dropped Caysun’s bike off at Brent and JD’s. Now they were on the road, headed southwest. After a silent few minutes, Vaughn glanced at the quiet man next to him, “What’s on your mind?”
Cay sighed as he stared out the side window, “That I should’ve done more.”
“Like what?”
Caysun shrugged, “I don’t know, looked for you maybe, asked for your help?”
“Did you even know that I existed?”
Cay’s head finally turned, “No.”
“Casey did that for a reason, Cay. You guys were doing shit that, even if it wasn’t illegal, it walked on the wrong side of the law from me. If someone found out that I was his brother, they could’ve used me to get information. He also knew that if I was made aware of the shit he was doing, I would’ve had to report him or risk losing my job. That’s not a choice I would risk on my worst enemy, Cay. He was protecting me and you by not saying anything. You did everything you could to save him. Cut yourself some slack.
I need you to be strong now, Cay. This is going to be so fucking hard even if we do find him. I need someone there to catch me if I fall.”
“I’ll be there, Vaughn. I swear.”
He nodded and then concentrated on the road, the purr of the engine lulling them both into a calm silence.
“Let me know when you get hungry, okay?” he said.
“I will. And you let me know when you get tired of driving.”
Vaughn’s eyes cut to Caysun, only to find Cay grinning at Vaughn. “Nobody drives my car, Cay. Not even you.”
“But then how will you return the favor?”
“Favor?”
Cay’s grin morphed into th
at hot-as-fuck smirk that made Vaughn’s knees go weak….and his dick twitch. And then his fingers slid seductively down the seatbelt to the latch.
“Cay,” Vaughn whispered, his eyes darting back and forth between the road and Caysun.
Cay’s smirk grew even more sinful.
“Cay,” he whispered again, his voice shaky as he forced his eyes to stay on the road.
And then he heard the snick of the seatbelt as it was released.
Jesus, was this really happening?
He pressed down against his dick that was pressing against his zipper and he swore the damn thing growled at him.
Or maybe it was just him that growled.
He sucked in a breath when fingers lifted the bottom of his t-shirt and reached underneath to glide across his stomach.
“Cay,” he said on a moan because apparently that was the only thing he could say right now.
He should probably say more, should probably tell Caysun to stop, tell him that he’d never done this before, yet every time he opened his mouth to speak, all he could manage was, “Cay.”
And then those fingers were opening the button on his jeans and sliding that zipper down.
His own fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter. He knew he should pull over but the thrill of this happening as the car flew down the road at seventy miles an hour was just too damn seductive.
He almost lost it though when he felt those warm fingers slide past the elastic of his briefs and wrap around his dick.
“Cay,” he groaned again.
Caysun didn’t say a thing, he didn’t need to. He knew what he was doing to Vaughn. He was peeling him apart, piece by piece.
Vaughn just had to trust that Cay would put him back together when he was done.
With a slightly painful bending effort, Cay freed Vaughn’s hard, leaking dick from its cloth prison and licked across the slit.
Vaughn grunted, his foot pressing a little harder on the gas as precum began drooling out of his dick.
He heard Cay hum in approval but then the only sound he could hear was the roaring in his ears when Cay enveloped him in his hot mouth until he hit the back of Cay’s throat.
“Fuck, Cay,” he groaned, slightly pleased that he was able to manage another word besides Cay.
His right hand left the steering wheel and gripped the hair on the back of Cay’s head.
Shit, not gonna last, he thought, or maybe he said it out loud, he had no idea. All he knew was that he could already feel his orgasm building.
Cay’s head moved up and down as his tongue swirled.
And then he felt Cay’s hand somehow slip into the tight confines of his jeans. It had to be painful with the zipper digging into his skin on the back of his hand as he gently squeezed Vaughn’s balls.
But when that hand slid lower and he pressed a finger against his hole, Vaughn was fucking done.
“Cay,” he growled as a warning.
The man tightened his suction on Vaughn’s dick and it was all over.
Forcing his eyes to stay open so he didn’t wrap his car around a tree was an entirely new experience for Vaughn but somehow, he managed, as he shot his load down Caysun’s throat.
He moaned as Cay loosened the tight grip his mouth had on Vaughn’s dick and he began tenderly licking over every ridge and vein as he cleaned it off.
Then, without a fucking word, Cay tucked Vaughn’s dick back inside his briefs, sat back in his seat, buckled and then wiped the corner of that smirking mouth with his finger.
It was a few silent miles before Vaughn managed to speak again.
“You’re driving after we stop for lunch.”
Twenty-Nine
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Miguel
The longer he was away from that place, the more his heart pounded. By now, El Diablo might know what he had done. He might be searching for him, cursing him.
He barely registered the smell of vomit as he drove, keeping the windows up and the heater on to warm the shivering man lying on the seat behind him.
“Hurts,” the man moaned.
“Sí, I know, I know. Lo siento, I’m sorry. Tu es nombré?” he said, desperately needing to know the man’s name like he needed his next breath.
He was just about to ask in English when the man whispered, “Casey.”
He rolled the name around in his head for the last few miles of the drive. He slowed down on the winding mountain road and began searching for the driveway that was so overgrown with trees and bushes that it was almost hidden. If you didn’t know to look for the old mailbox post hidden on one side, the one that hadn’t held a mailbox in decades, you’d miss it.
Once hidden off the road, he slid his finger over the phone in its holster on the dash and dialed Rosa.
“Sí?” she said when she answered, obviously expecting his call.
“I am here. Can you text them?”
“Sí. I stocked the fridge and cupboards for you.”
His eyes went wide, “You didn’t have to do that, Tia.”
“Sí, I did. Make this right, Miguel.”
Guilt for his role in this fiasco shot through him, “Sí. I will, Tia. I swear.”
She ended the call. He knew she was angry with him, but he also knew she understood.
The green metal roof of his grandfather’s cabin made its appearance as he rounded the final turn of the mile-long driveway. He hadn’t been here in almost a year but once he saw it, he knew he was home.
He’d hoped to make this his permanent residence, and it had worked for a while, with him turning the small shed into a studio. He’d sold a few drawings and paintings but not enough to keep food in his house and also help out his mamá. Hence the reason he’d taken that job with El Diablo. The money was just too tempting to turn down when it had been offered to him. And in his defense, he’d been told he would just be watching over a man. He hadn’t been told he would be drugging the man until after he’d shown up and been given half the money up front. And at first, he’d been told that the man was diabetic and that’s what the drug was for. It hadn’t been until a few weeks into the job that he’d noticed how the man became so lethargic after each dose given - that and the fact that he was never told to test the man’s blood sugar level at all - that he questioned the courier who supplied the drugs and was told that it was Fentanyl, synthetic heroin.
At first, he’d been angry for being saddled with watching over a fucking junkie. But after watching - Casey, he now knew - after seeing his obviously healthy body transform into what it was now, he knew the man was no junkie - at least he hadn’t been until Miguel had unwittingly turned him into one.
Just one more block of guilt that now weighed him down.
He pulled up next to the front porch of the two-bedroom cabin that his Abuelo Juan Miguel had built with his own two hands. He and Miguel’s Abuela Rosita were two free spirits who had never married, they’d raised their twin daughters Rosa and Donnita - Miguel’s aunt and mother - together but after their girls moved out, his grandmother moved to a compound for artists in Taos and his grandfather built this place. He and Miguel both had a love for art too and they bonded in this place. Miguel spent his summers here and any other time he could get up to the remote cabin. When his abuelo passed away, he left the place to Miguel. It was small - two bedrooms, one pass-thru bathroom and a great room that held the living, dining and kitchen areas - but it was perfect for him. And secluded. And not in his name. It was kept in the family trust that his abuelo had set up.
Hopefully that would keep him from being found. At least long enough to help Casey detox and get him somewhere safe.
“Need a bathroom, oh god,” Casey said with a groan as he began thrashing on the seat.
“Sí, I’ve got you Casey,” he said as he shut off his old Suburban. He jumped out and yanked open the back door just in time to have Casey stick his head out and yak all over the ground next to Miguel’s feet. In between heaves he kept moaning, “No,
no, no, please no,” and it only took Miguel a minute for the smell to hit him and figure out why.
“It’s okay, mi Cariño.”
“No,” Casey moaned again.
“I’ll get you cleaned up. Come on. Let me carry you.”
“No. Just let me die.”
“I can’t do that, mí amigo,” he said as he pulled Casey into his arms.
Having no fight in his body, Casey wrapped his arms around Miguel’s neck and let his head flop against his chest. “I hate myself,” he whispered.
“Why?” Miguel said as he climbed the four steps to the wraparound porch.
“I shit myself.”
“You’re sick, mí Cariño. It happens. I’m going to help you get better.”
“Why?” Casey whispered as Miguel slid the key blindly into the lock underneath Casey’s body.
The question made Miguel pause. He could lie to the man, make some shit up about finding him and rescuing him.
But he didn’t want there to be any lies between them.
Why? He had no idea.
“Because I’m the one who made you sick,” he whispered as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
He locked the door behind him and walked directly into the large pass-thru bathroom that was shared by both bedrooms.
“Do you think you can stand?” he said as he stepped over to the large walk-in shower that he’d had installed three years ago. The bathroom was the only room in the cabin that he had made changes to, extending the outlying wall out far enough to add a large soaking tub surrounded by windows and the glass enclosed multiple-head shower off to the side.
“No,” Casey whispered.
Without any more thought to it, he set his keys on the counter, toed off his sneakers and stepped inside the stall with the man in his arms. He pushed the square panel to start the spray, thankful for the tankless water heater he’d had installed too. He set the spray to rain shower because he was worried that anything stronger would hurt Casey’s sensitive skin, then he gently lowered Casey’s feet to the floor and held him tightly in his arms so that he wouldn’t collapse.
When the smell began filling the steam filled room as everything washed down the drain, Casey began mumbling, “I’m sorry,” over and over.
Whiteout Conditions Page 11
